and it's a long way up when you hit the ground
by whimsycality
Summary: Lucifer envied man, Eve tempted Adam, and Michael cast Lucifer out of heaven. Right? Stop. Start over. Lucifer envied man, Eve chose freedom, and Michael loved Lucifer. Closer. Or Tony/Pepper/Steve throughout the ages, the Tony as Satan story you never knew you wanted.
1. Chapter 1

**and what was right is wrong**

Michael comes to rest on the ground, glory fading beneath a dull shell that will not blind the creatures of the Garden. The Father is occupied elsewhere, planning something he has not shared with his angels. Not even Michael. He had resisted his curiosity about The Father's latest creation, but he had sensed Lucifer's presence in the Garden, on the Earth, and had not been able to resist following.

He has never been able to resist that.

Walking through the trees, he approaches the sound of water striking sand. Glints of light catch his eyes and he smiles. Even dimmed, Lucifer is a shining star - bright and achingly beautiful.

He is standing on the white sand, blue water swirling about his ankles, his perfect face staring into the sun as it hangs low over the horizon. Michael joins him and wonders idly what the water feels like to those of The Father's creations blessed with such perception.

They stand, shoulder to shoulder, as the sun descends, until only a sliver of gold hovers above the endless expanse of water, reflecting off the matching gold in Lucifer's eyes. Michael raises a hand, trailing it across the sharp edges of Lucifer's cheekbone, and waits for him to speak.

"The Father has never created such a place before," Lucifer says, his ringing voice reduced to a silver whisper as he turns his face into Michael's caress. "He has never entered this realm."

Michael nods, but does not speak. He knows better than to say that it is not their place to question The Father's will. Nor is he sure he wishes to say such a thing, however true it is. Lucifer's words are also truth. The realm of mortals has always been beyond their concern, and The Father's. Until now.

"Has he spoken to you of his plans?" Lucifer asks, sparks flickering on the surfaces of his eyes as he finally meets Michael's gaze.

Michael shakes his head, weighing his words. "No, he keeps his own counsel. Although I would not care to say that none of The Others have guessed his intent."

Lucifer hums and nods slowly, his generous mouth slanting upwards into a wry smirk. "They will certainly not confide in us." Michael smiles agreement and Lucifer sighs, his gaze drifting back to the sky, now studded with the light of a thousand stars, none as beautiful as the one looking up at them. "I worry," he confesses, the shadow of his wings drawing tight around him.

Michael stretches his own wings around both of them and steps closer, until the sparks swirling around Lucifer's fingers begin to dance around his own. "What do you See?"

There is a breath of silence and then Lucifer's hand is burning against his arm, his eyes black and fathomless. "Death."

x

x

x

Eve walks through the Garden, savoring the feel of the rich soft earth between her toes. Adam is slumbering but she is restless. Their day, the same as all their other days, was peaceful and pleasant. She has no cares, no wants that are not met, but sleep evades her. The quiet rustlings of the creatures who share their home do not soothe her the way they normally do and her feet wander off their usual paths, toward the great sea that borders the westernmost side of the Garden.

Before she reaches the edge of the trees, she catches a glimpse of movement and stops. She does not wish to disturb whatever animals have sought the coolness of the waves and carefully steps forward, peering through the foliage with curiosity she cannot quell.

Her hand rises to her mouth unbidden as the fragmented images before her resolve into one dazzling whole. Stunned, she feels a sudden wave of dizziness. She and Adam are the only ones of their kind. The Father made this clear when he created her. But the two beings standing on the beach _look_ like them. Only so much more. They are beautiful in a way that she can hardly comprehend, their heads tilted toward each other in a moment of quiet intimacy, and her chest aches with emotions she does not have names for.

Who are they?

She shifts unconsciously forward and a leaf crackles beneath her feet. Before she can even see if they noticed, she is turning to flee, afraid for the first time in her life. Not of the beautiful strangers, but of the things the sight of them has awakened within her.

Adam is still sleeping when she returns to his side and she curls up on the grass beside him, watching his chest rise and fall, until dawn breaks. When his eyes flutter open and he smiles at her, she forces herself to smile back and lets him pull her in for a kiss before they begin their peaceful and pleasant day.

She ignores her restlessness that night and matches her breathing to Adam's until she falls asleep. Until the dreams come.

The Garden no longer seems quite so peaceful and pleasant and she does not know what it means.

In the morning, Adam asks her what she wants to do and she demurs to his preference, words stuck in her throat. She does not know what she wants and she is still afraid.

But she is also desperately curious.

Curious enough to listen when an unexpected voice speaks to her with questions she has not dared to ask herself.

The serpent's words wash over her, white noise as she stares at the bright red fruit, gleaming with secrets in the afternoon sun. She was created for the pleasure of Adam, that is her purpose. Like the animals who live in the Garden with them, her days are filled with delicious food, lovely sights, and the companionship of her mate, whose body provided the seed of her existence.

She should want for nothing; she has known nothing but perfection. But she does. However wrong it is, she finds herself _wanting_. Wanting what, she does not know, although she thinks of beauty glimpsed in moonlight with a guilty flush. Perhaps these lush fruits, forbidden even to touch will hold the answers to the emptiness of her existence.

As the sweet flesh of the fruit dissolves on her tongue, she knows. She knows that her daughters, for endless millenia, will be blamed for her choices, just as Adam will blame her. She knows that they will suffer and know unimaginable pain; that they will be punished and killed for the crime of being her descendants, the great temptress who only wanted to _know_.

And she knows that they will have choices. That many of her daughters will create lives for themselves, not for the pleasure of men or gods, and she knows that it is worth it.

Before her eyes, the serpent becomes a shining figure of a man, one of the two she had spied upon, and his face is wrought with a pain and pleasure that matches hers. "Do you See?" he asks.

She sees, many things, not least of them freedom, and nods. "I See."

x

x

x

Michael cuts through the air, fierce desperation consuming him. He _must_ reach Lucifer first. The Father is furious, more furious than He has been in all the ages of Michael's existence, and he is deeply afraid of what that anger will mean for Lucifer.

Lucifer is standing at the edge of the water, his wings flared and his shoulders unbowed with the burden that has been weighing them down since The Father first revealed Adam to them. Even in the grips of terror, Michael cannot help but drink in the sight of his beauty and strength.

The thought of those things destroyed, struck down by their Creator, makes him falter, falling to the sand beside Lucifer as he feels pain for the first time in centuries. Lucifer looms over him, eyes wide with concern as his graceful hands pull Michael to his feet.

"_Why_?" Michael asks, gripping Lucifer's shoulders as flames lick the surface of his skin, his control undone.

Lucifer pales, his skin shining as his own power rises to press against Michael's, a dance that has never been anything but pleasure, not until now. "It was _wrong_. What He did. You know it was. Mortals are not meant to be toys for the likes of us."

Michael sags in Lucifer's hold, unable to deny the truth of his words. "He will destroy you," he says with quiet, painful certainty. "You have taken away every measure of control He has over this world and for that He will take away your very existence."

Lucifer's wings wrap around him, his hands gentle against Michael's face. "It was worth it. You would have done the same, once your nobility overrode your loyalty."

Michael wants to shake his head, wants to deny that he is capable of Lucifer's unflinching bravery, but presses their mouths together instead, feeling the burn of Lucifer's soul and wishing he could feel his skin as well.

The weight of The Father falls upon them before another word can be spoken and Michael screams as Lucifer is wrenched away from him, his glorious wings torn to shreds by the force of The Father's voice.

He lunges forward and places himself between Lucifer and The Father, glaring into the light even as it sears his flesh. "I will not let you destroy him!"

Laughter sends him to his knees, pain lancing through him as he continues to shelter Lucifer's broken body with his own. "You see what you have done, Lucifer? You have corrupted the very Captain of my Host. You have taken my Sword along with my Earth."

"Not your Earth," Lucifer gasps out and Michael screams again as light pierces through them, incinerating their bodies until only their souls, scorched and battered, remain.

"You will live and die with your precious mortals, bear witness to every moment of suffering your interference will cause. You will not know peace, and neither will they." The Father's voice rings with truth and the touch of his regard is agony. "You should have paid more attention to your visions, Lucifer - you are the bringer of Death."

The light grows until their is nothing else, not even Lucifer by his side, and then Michael falls.

He does not feel it when he hits the ground.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **I am attempting to be as historically accurate as possible with this fic (not an easy proposition given that this entire chapter is set approximately 2000 years before written languages existed) and for most of human history, in most places, life sucked for women and anyone viewed as weak or different. So please, consider this a very broad **trigger** warning for sexism, forced marriage (and at an age we would consider too young in modern western culture), lack of consent, negative views towards physical disability, violence, death, etc.

I do not intend to be graphic in this fic with the darker things, and will label chapters very clearly if that changes, but there are going to be upsetting and disturbing themes and events due to the time periods the story takes place in.

Also, the characters themselves may think/express things I do not agree with, based on their own knowledge/bias.

* * *

~x~

* * *

**in a million multi-colored lies**

Eve feels more numb than surprised when she and Adam are banished from the Garden and they discover that they are far from the only humans on Earth. What is truth and what is lie has become so tangled that she can hardly give credence to either.

She has no regrets.

Adam has not forgiven her for offering him freedom, but he does not know how to not love her and so they form a new life among the other humans, who accept them for their health and strength despite their oddities. No longer so peaceful and pleasant, instead their days are painful, hard, and viscerally real.

She bears him two children, a son and a daughter, and whispers to them of choices while their father and the other villagers sleep in their homes of mud brick. Her son works on the maintenance and creation of water channels with his father and her daughter joins her in the fields, working to bring life from the Earth that once favored her with such abundance.

The others find her strange, stranger even than Adam who, after the initial shock, faded into their new world with ease. But she Sees, Sees things no one else does, and it sets her apart, whispered words trailing after her when she fetches water and teaches her daughter how to grind seeds into the fine powder they use for cooking.

She dreams, every night, of gods and knowledge and blazing comets in the sky, and wakes with inhuman screams ringing in her ears.

She is still curious, but she is no longer afraid.

Adam dies in one of the fevers that comes with spring flooding and her daughter nearly follows. Eve proves to be the most adept at treating the sick and soon the whispers take on an air of reverence. She is still strange, but she is useful. Her son is taken in by one of the other men and their place in the village is not questioned, the fruits of her and her children's labor is enough to support them along with the small gifts that occasionally appear at their doorstep.

Eve dies as the oldest person in the village, surviving long enough to hold her son's daughter on her knee and to give her blessing to her daughter's union to a man who will not hurt her.

She dies content.

She awakens with a hearty scream and a feeling of intense disorientation that does not fade until she is old enough to walk. She is a quiet and strange child, the little girl whose sky-colored eyes never miss a thing, and in this life when the fevers come she is chosen as a sacrifice to the gods.

She dies choking on brackish river water.

When she awakens again, she does not scream. The words she learns are strange to her ears at first and her eyes are dark and slanted. She learns how to create clay vessels at her mother's knee and enjoys the way the squishy earth is shaped into items of graceful use. She uses a sharp stone to carve designs into the clay before it is placed into the sand to harden and then helps her mother prepare rice for their evening meal.

She is better at concealing her strangeness in this life and she is careful not to See unless she is safely alone. She makes no noise when she dreams and her family views her with the distant affection that all daughters receive.

Two summers after her first bleeding, she is given to one of the most successful hunters in their village. He is less gentle than Adam and she feels anger, hot and bitter, for the first time since The Father cast them out of the Garden for the simple crime of choice.

She wishes that she'd been born a boy. And then, fiercely angry again, wishes that being born a girl did not mean being born without choices.

Eventually she bears him a son and is both glad and sad when a daughter does not follow. She has not forgotten her first choice, or the things she Saw, but she knows now that she is not to blame for the lot of women in this world, so much bigger than she ever dreamed.

Lessened guilt does not equate to lessened pain and at night she weeps for all her daughters, born or not.

During the day she teaches her son humility when his father is not around and whispers the same lessons over his bed that she taught her first children: how to see and how to choose.

She dies after cutting her arm while gutting fish and does not mourn the life she lived.

In her next life, she finds herself in the same village she lived in as Eve, grown larger and more populated. There is a temple in the center of what is now nearly a city, stacked rooms of carefully crafted mud bricks, and the small water channels have become larger canals, irrigating the fields. The reed huts of the fisher people and the tents of the goatherders have grown more numerous and a more organized trade has sprung up.

She is with her mother in the square by the temple where people bring their excess goods for barter when she sees him and her hands clench against the rough fabric of her dress.

He is less than he was, but more than those around him, and still beautiful, light flickering at the edges of her vision in the places no one else can See.

His head turns as he leads a string of three goats between two women with baskets of grain and their eyes catch and lock. Her mind quails with the things she Sees and she makes another choice.

When the world will not give you choices, sometimes one must create them.

~x~

It takes two lives for Michael to accept the loss of his wings, to adapt to his fragile, mortal flesh. He cannot and will not accept the loss of Lucifer, who has been by his side for more ages than humans have existed.

He wanders, living off the land and seeking out every settlement he can find for a hint of the sparks that cannot have burned out entirely. Not all such places are friendly to a stranger, and his third and fourth lives end in violence he cannot bring himself to reciprocate.

He has spent the entirety of his existence as The Father's Sword, the Captain of his Host in the wars waged against The Others. He is not skilled at violence, he is violence, and he will not use what he is against mortals who are mere children in their understanding of the world. Children who are only seeking to protect what is theirs.

Lucifer was right. He would have fought for the freedom of the mortals The Father created and enchanted, had Lucifer not found a way to do so first.

The truth of that does not make the ache of his absence any easier to bear.

He finds Eve first and is furious at The Father all over again for punishing her too.

There is a reason that Lucifer (and he) could not stand what The Father had done. Free will is never so appreciated as by those who have never had it.

She is younger than he is, although not by much, and hovering in her mother's shadow as the woman bargains for a basket of fish. When their gazes meet, a surge of recognition and renewed grief leaves him breathless.

She watches as he carefully approaches, and steps away from her mother so that they will not be overheard. Her eyes are dark in this life, filled with shadows that make him ache all over again, and they hold his with startling intensity when she speaks. "I am not sorry."

It surprises a chuckle out of him and he shakes his head, admiration and unexpected joy curving his mouth. "I am glad."

She blinks and gives him a slow, cautious smile. "Is he," she hesitates and lifts one shoulder in a wordless gesture of curiosity.

He lowers his head, heart seizing at the reminder of the empty space between them. "I have not found him. Yet."

She frowns but cannot speak again, her mother drawing her away with a suspicious glance at the tall stranger. He watches her go and for the first time since he fell, contemplates staying in one place.

Loneliness is but one of the new sensations he has experienced since gaining a mortal form, but it cuts the deepest. The woman who chose freedom is something familiar, a reminder of what he lost and why. The rewards as well as the cost. Her bravery is undeniable, as bright and shining as Lucifer's, and he's suddenly overcome with a desire to know what she has become in this world outside The Father's carefully crafted bubble.

Eve sharing their fate is a cruelty that should not be. But she does not seem to be mourning the cost of her decision and for Lucifer's sake, if not his own, he resolves to learn the truth of who she has chosen to be in the face of other's actions. If she will let him.

He does not expect her to approach him the next time their paths cross in the Temple square and ask him to barter with her parents for her.

"Why do you wish this?" he asks, taken aback by the offer of what is essentially slavery, even if he would never treat her as such. Neither of them deserve to ever be slaves again.

Some part of him is still surprised that she even recognized him; unlike Lucifer he never spoke with her, and she has no reason to trust him other than his association with the first being to give her a choice.

Her lips curl downwards. "You will not expect me to perform my womanly duties. Will you?"

Her eyes are still penetrating and he shakes his head, saddened and angered. What Lucifer offered her changed her, more than he had realized. Or perhaps she was different all along, perhaps The Father miscalculated when he sought to create obedient sheep in order to work his will on the mortal realm. Mortals have always been trickier to mold; it is why The Father and others like Him play their games in other realms.

Either way, this life is ill suited to one with her knowledge, and if he can help ease it, then he will.

"What will your father accept for your bride price?"

She looks faintly surprised at his acceptance, then smiles in pleasure. "A breeding pair of goats will raise his status within our tribe."

He returns her smile and nods. It will also raise hers, to be worthy of the price. "Where can I find your father when I have them?"

"Meet me here in three days; I will bring you to him," she says, and then turns to go, casting one last smile over her shoulder.

He watches her walk away and wonders at his purpose. Mortals have choices, but they are young, this race, and they do not appreciate the gravity of that ability, nor the breadth of the freedom they hold. They use those choices to enslave each other, to play at being gods, even as they fear invisible forces.

He has never had so many choices before and he finds himself at a loss as to what to do with them. Finding Lucifer has been his only goal. It is still what he wants, more than he has ever wanted anything. But perhaps it is time to make other plans. To utilize the potential of his mortal form, a potential The Father both envied and underestimated.

Turning away, he makes his way back to the tents of his tribe to arrange for a pair of goats, the memory of gold eyes and unbowed shoulders driving him forward. It is past time he became more than a weapon, or a ghost.

Three days later he has traded labor and the fruits of several successful hunts for the right to trade away two of the tribe's precious breeding stock and is following Puabi ("I am not Eve, not anymore,") toward her home.

Her father is surprised by his offer, and seems reluctant at first to trade his daughter ("so strong, so healthy,") away to a goatherder, but he cannot resist the lure of milk and the ability to breed his own livestock, something no one else in their tribe has, and so agrees while her mother watches silently with a flat mouth and sad eyes.

Puabi gathers her clothes, a basket of weaving, and a basket of grain her mother pushes into his hands, and then they leave. She never looks back.

He feels unexpectedly awkward when he leads her to his tent and shows her inside under the intent and curious gazes of his people. She looks around the tent, taking in the pallet of reeds covered in loose hides that he sleeps on, the spear and various tools, the clay vessel with water, and various other items he had never realized were so intrinsic to mortal life, and then sets down her belongings in a clear corner before turning to face him, her hands on her hips. "What do I call you?"

Blinking, he almost laughs, realizing that she has never known his name: any of them. Yet here they are, bound together for the duration of this lifespan, however long it lasts. He thinks Lucifer would laugh, if he was here. "I am Naram in this life.

She nods and he is once again struck with how indescribably brave she is, to come here with him, a man she does not know. He wants to tell her this, but does not know how she would respond and so holds his tongue. "I can make another pallet," he offers instead and she smiles at him in clear amusement.

"It is better to share warmth. You will not do anything I do not want you to do."

He smiles back, a different kind of warmth flaring in his chest at her certainty. "As you say, Puabi."

She grins, her face lighting up as some tension he had not noticed flows out of her. "Now show me to your cooking fire, so that your people may see your new wife and I may make us dinner."

He bows his head in obedience and then leads her out of the tent with a wide smile upon his face that sets his people to whispering, one old woman chuckling to herself as she weaves in front of her son's tent. He thinks this life will have more happiness than his last four.

He is not wrong.

They never lie together, and his people are disappointed by the lack of children. Only one dares to suggest divorcing Puabi and his response is harsh enough to prevent any such words in the future.

During the day she joins the other women of his tribe in weaving, grinding grain into flour, cooking, and caring for the children, while he spends his time with the other men, caring for the goats, hunting, fishing, and trading with the other tribes. At night they teach each other languages never spoken by the people of their city, and speak of the history he has witnessed. She is endlessly curious and he finds a new peace in his memories as he speaks of his life before the fall.

When he wakes with Lucifer's name on his lips, she offers silent comfort, and when her eyes go sad and distant while watching the women and children of his tribe, he gives her stories to take her mind away.

She dies first and missing her is an unwelcome pain. As is the thought of her in a new life, alone, at the mercies of a world that does not respect choices, and he knows that he will forever be searching for not one but two souls as he lives and dies again and again.

He dies of one of the many illnesses that sweep the plains and only wishes that it was swifter. When consciousness returns, he is in a round hut made of reeds and mud. His skin is dark, darker than the earth, and his people live on the banks of a great river.

His legs are twisted and he hears his parents whisper of giving him to the river and praying for a stronger son.

He is ashamed that a part of him wishes they would, so that he might be born again in a body that is not an enemy. He had felt weak in his first mortal body, his wings and his power gaping losses in his soul, but he has never felt so helpless than when trapped as a crippled child who  
can barely drag himself to relieve his bodily needs.

But he remembers the bravery of a woman who created choices in a world with none and when his parents choose to keep him, he finds ways to make himself useful. His arms are strong, they bear most of his weight when he needs to move, and his fingers are deft. He is soon skilled at weaving, and shaping clay into vessels, and while his parents still pray for a stronger son (they are eventually blessed with a strong daughter instead, and he ignores the disappointment in their eyes and makes her the center of his world,) they no longer whisper of sacrifices.

He still dies young. The river does not flood one year and when the crops wither, he is one of those who is not fed. He does not resent this; he has been of use, but he cannot provide for the tribe as others can, and he knows he will be buried in the village with a clay figurine and other offerings rather than slipped into the river with other children they wish to forget.

The world when he wakes is cold, colder than he has ever been, but he is strong again and he is not ashamed of the fierce joy he finds in running as his tribe moves across frozen plains in search of game.

Joy that is more than eclipsed when he crests a snow covered hill and finds Lucifer on the other side.

~x~

His first life is short and ends in violence, his tongue running away from him before he remembers that he is no longer merely hiding beneath this dull human shell but actually bound to it. His second is shorter and ends in hunger when he is shunned from the tribe he was born to and fails to adapt to the desert on his own. His third he ends by his own hand rather than obtaining manhood by killing a member of the village they are feuding with.

He does not remember his fourth and fifth lives. Or at least, that's what he will say when asked.

His sixth, oh, in his sixth he finds him again, and for the first time since his wings were burned away by The Father's fury, he feels sparks well within his breast.

He is hunting with the other boys of the tribe, collecting game for their stores before the true winter storms make food gathering dangerous if not lethal. He has split away from the others, following the faint traces of hooved tracks in the snow, when his neck prickles with the sensation of being watched. Raising his head, he sees an unfamiliar figure. There are no other tribes currently settled in the area and for a moment his stomach sinks at the thought of a battle for territory.

The wars he fought in The Father's name feel distant and unreal, and killing as a mortal is horrific on many levels.

His eyes meet the curious gaze of the watcher, a boy about his age, and his breath catches in his throat as phantom flames lick the edges of his memories. Before he even realizes he's moving he's halfway across the distance between them, something loud and bright and fierce thrumming beneath his skin.

Michael is suddenly right there, brown hands wrapped around his arms and unfamiliar dark eyes burning into him, and Lucifer sags, dragging them both to the snow as he sinks into the other man's embrace, eyes stinging with the first tears he has ever shed.

"I thought He would keep us apart," he murmurs against Michael's hide covered chest and feels Michael's arms tighten around him like protective iron bands.

"He does not have power over this world, over us. Not anymore." Michael's words are a vow, a plea, and Lucifer digs his fingers into the other man's back and silently makes the same oath. The Father will not break them; this punishment will not be the end of who they were, or who they will become.

He lifts his head, seeking Michael's mouth with his own. When their lips meet, it is rough and warm and like nothing he has felt before. Their love has burned brightly for longer than humans have walked the Earth, but their bodies Before were not made for such things - they had been weapons, vessels of power, their desires limited by their purpose.

But these bodies, these frail, mortal structures, can feel so much, can touch and taste and hold. They are beautiful in their very lack of purpose, their lack of fate, and the feel of Michael's soft hair beneath his fingers is his undoing.

They are both shaking, and not with cold, and Michael is cradling him like he is something fragile and precious that will break if he is not careful. Lucifer bites his lip and pushes him down into the snow, swallowing Michael's laugh as his grip becomes tight enough to bruise. This is real, he is real, and he wants every moment branded into his flesh.

Melted snow seeping into the fur lining of their clothes eventually forces them to stand, to reluctantly disentangle their limbs, although their hands remained locked, fingers intertwining in a hold Lucifer needs so that he will not float away into the abyss. In silent accord they turn away from the paths they both took to this place and head further into the wilderness, far from both of their peoples, who will mourn but accept the loss as nature's cost.

They keep moving until the growing dark of the sky hinders their progress. Together, they hollow out a small mound beneath the snow, carefully turning and layering the drifts so that the roof will not collapse on them. Lucifer is only carrying his spear, a bone knife, and some food, but Michael has a full pack of food, tools, and extra hides, which they use to line the bottom of their shelter. They share berries and dried meat and then curl together for warmth, their damp clothes set aside to be dried in the morning when they can build a fire.

They touch each other slowly at first, languidly enjoying the warm silk of skin beneath fingertips that have never felt so sensitive. Michael's lips against his throat feel like a brand, like the fire the other man wielded in another life, and the unconscious motion of their bodies grows more frenetic, both seeking friction with an instinctual ache. Their mouths meet again, hot and slick, and they are both surprised when release comes, shuddering against each other with muffled groans.

After the euphoria has begun to fade, Lucifer looks down between their sweat-kissed bodies and makes a face. "Humans are so messy," he mutters and Michael laughs, dragging his chin up for another kiss.

"It is worth the mess," Michael says, humor fading into something warm and solemn and Lucifer kisses him again, knowing that he means more than just the pleasure they shared, knowing that he means Lucifer himself and the price they are paying for his actions.

They clean themselves with melted snow, the cold an unpleasant shock after the warmth of their activities, and then curl up again, limbs intertwined in a lazy sprawl as sleep drags them under.

Lucifer dreams.

When he wakes, Michael is watching him, a small smile curving his lips although ghosts lurk in his eyes. "We are not the only ones The Father punished," he says quietly, his hand reaching up to cradle Lucifer's face. Lucifer raises a questioning eyebrow and Michael's smile fades as his thumb caresses Michael's bottom lip. "Eve."

Lucifer inhales sharply. "You have seen her?"

Michael nods, his mouth quirking upwards in amusement. "She was my wife."

Blinking in distant surprise, Lucifer wonders if he should feel betrayed. Instead he chuckles. "What was that like?"

Michael leans down and kisses him, then pulls away with a fond smile. "It was interesting. She reminds me of you."

"Stunningly beautiful?" Lucifer teases and Michael laughs softly.

"Brave. Stubborn. Intelligent," Michael says, tapping his thumb against the crease of Lucifer's mouth with each word. "She's the one who came to me, in order to avoid a true marriage." His face sobers. "I do not think she has had an easy time with her lives so far. Nor is she likely to in the future."

Lucifer remembers the darkness in his dreams and closes his eyes as the ache where his power used to be burns bitterly. "The Father has much to answer for."

"The Father was a fool," Michael murmurs against Lucifer's lips, his voice dark with promise. "He should have destroyed us utterly."

Lucifer's eyes slide open and he grins into Michael's mouth, fierce satisfaction humming in his veins. "He will regret that decision."

Michael agrees with a breath stealing kiss and the morning is soon lost to more enjoyable thoughts as they discover new ways to bring pleasure to each other.

When they are sated, they begin to plan.

They travel for many days, avoiding the trails their respective peoples have used before. During the day they hunt to excess, storing meat and preserving the hides and bones for future use, and gather what few edible plants they can. At night they build temporary shelters and work bone and hide into useful objects, then curl up together and explore every inch of each other's bodies.

Eventually they reach the edges of a forest and begin to work on a more permanent structure using larger blocks of snow as they prepare for the winter that is soon to arrive. They continue to hunt and store food, along with dried wood for fire, and work in a companionable harmony that sometimes feels more real than anything, and at other times feels like a distant dream until Lucifer has wrapped himself around Michael and swallowed his very breath.

When winter comes, they are ready, and Lucifer finds himself enjoying the long hours of forced confinement in ways he had never considered before. Their punishment's sharp edge has been dulled by the new possibilities between them and although he knows their current peace cannot last, he also knows that they will always find each other again.

He still Sees, and while it is banked, the fire within Michael still Burns. They are not what they were, but they are not merely mortal either, and there are many paths before them.

Winter ends and they are free to wander once more. Life continues, slow and sweet, their days filled with survival and their nights with plans and the warmth of skin. Years pass and Lucifer savors every second, knowing such quiet ease of existence will be rare in the lifetimes to come.

When it ends, it ends in pain and the tearing of flesh. They are hunting caribou when they stumble across another hunter, large and furred, with claws that slide into Lucifer's stomach with the same ease that Michael's sword used to cleave The Father's enemies. Michael shoves his spear down the bear's throat, but it is too late for Lucifer.

He dies with his blood on Michael's grieving face and broken words of love on his lips. His only regret is leaving Michael alone.

When he wakes, he is crying, angry wails his mother cannot soothe.

His people live in a cave on an island, hunting and growing grain. They worship a fertility god and Lucifer is not amused by the realization that he'll be expected to take more than one wife once he has proved himself as a hunter. But he remembers what Michael said about Eve's lives and resolves to do what he can to ease the lives of those chosen to be his mates.

When the time comes to bed his first wife, he makes it clear that he does not expect her to do anything she does not want to do. She does want, however, and he awkwardly fulfills his duties, learning the differences between her body and Michael's.

She is not upset by his hesitance and as time passes they grow more comfortable with each other. She chooses his second wife along with the elders of the tribe and the younger woman's infectious enthusiasm for life is hard to resist. When his first child is born, he stares at it's tiny frame in awe, and wonders if the essence that make him more than a human will be passed on.

But his daughter, and later his son, do not seem to See or Feel anything that the other children of the tribe do not, and he feels relief. Eve had told Michael of her life of sacrifice, and he remembers his own shunning when he did not hide his differences. Humans are afraid of strangeness, and he would not wish that danger on his descendants.

This life ends more peacefully than the last and he is an Elder of the Tribe when a wasting sickness claims him.

His next life is his first with a people who use boats for fishing, collecting oysters, and the hunting of seals. It is also his first life with Eve. She is born two years after he is in the same settlement and their instant connection is noted by their parents and the others of their tribe, who seem bemused by the unusual friendship. He brings her decorative shells and when he is given a dog after his first successful fishing expedition, it is Ásta ("never Eve again") who names it.

The two of them wandering the area around the village is a common sight and they talk about the things they See, the people they have been, and the lives yet to come. No one is surprised when he presents her father with a bride price a year after her first bleeding and she wears a belt of teeth and shells he crafted when they are bound together.

He is surprised when she makes it known that she wishes a marriage in truth, surprised and glad. There is none of the awkwardness there was with his last life and his only wish is that Michael could be with them too.

"Yes," she tells him, not needing words to know what he is thinking, and he kisses her.

Some of their futures are very bright indeed.

She bears them twin children, both girls, who are doted on. Lucifer frequently catches Ásta watching them with shadows in her eyes and does his best to drive them away, wanting her to have as many happy memories as possible before time once again splits them apart.

They are able to assist their daughters in choosing mates of their desire when the time comes and die within a year of each other, living long enough to witness the birth of their first grandson.

His next two lives are spent alone. He wanders, filled with restless urges he cannot name, and avoids human contact once he has determined the lack of Michael and Eve's presence in each settlement or nomad group he encounters.

When he awakens in a new body for the third time since his life with Ásta, his people are nomads. They live off the land, and off the fruits of the settlements they raid. He does not plan to stay with them, not wishing to join their violent lifestyle when he is old enough, but when he is six, Eve, now Linde, a tiny girl with golden hair and large brown eyes, joins them after being stolen from her village. Two years later, Michael is born.

Their souls burn brightly, a comforting warmth he had not thought he would feel so soon, but his dreams are dark and he fears for what is to come.

He stays as close to them as he is able, and attaches himself to the men who guard the women and children despite his father's urging to join him in raids once he is old enough to wield a spear and a blade. Michael's face is cherubic with youth and he follows Lucifer everywhere, a fact the women of the tribe find adorable while Linde smiles with quiet knowledge.

They clash with another nomadic tribe once and Lucifer can see the furious frustration in Michael's eyes at his helplessness. The attackers are repelled with ease, only injuries received, no deaths, and that night Michael and Linde both slip out of their respective tents to curl into Lucifer's sides as he sits watch.

"What have you Seen?" Michael asks, his voice baby-soft but his dark green eyes glinting with remembered flames.

"Life," Lucifer responds, his voice fierce as he leans down to brush a kiss across Michael's forehead. "Life is all I See."

Michael is silent and Linde hums thoughtfully as she tightens her grip on their hands. When Lucifer meets her gaze, he knows she has Seen something, but does not ask, and her smile is dark and dangerous as she holds his eyes before turning away to stare into the night beyond their camp.

They break camp in the morning and the tribe moves on, more cautiously than before.

Another year passes and the men leave on another raid, against a village rich in copper goods. Lucifer wakes to screams and fire. The tribe they'd driven off has returned while the bulk of their forces are away. He stumbles out of his tent, half clothed with a spear in one hand and a knife in the other. He sees an armed man pluck Linde from the arms of a dead woman and bares his teeth, lunging forward. Something strikes the back of his head and he collapses to the ground, Linde's eyes burning into him as his vision goes dark.

When he wakes again, he is one of the few survivors. Michael and Linde were both taken and he does not stay to help the others. Instead he gathers weapons, some food, and follows the trail the attackers left in blood, debris, and tiny scraps of fabric from a familiar dress.

He finds their camp the next night and kills three of the men, two while on watch and a third that stumbles into the trees to relieve himself. When they break camp in the morning, he can see that they are nervous. They expected an attack, if any, to be blunt force, not shadows in the night. He follows them at a careful distance while they do their best to cover their tracks and does not attack again, instead paying attention to where the captive children are kept and how many guard them.

He doesn't attack that night. Instead he plans and watches, learning their movements. They begin the night tense, but relax as the hours pass with no further assault. He gives them another day of peace and waits several hours after nightfall, until the men still awake to guard are less observant than they should be.

He moves silently and quick and when the camp wakes to fire and dead sentries, he, Linde, and Michael are long gone, all three clutching bloodied blades.

They do not return to their tribe.

It is two days before exhaustion claims Michael, his small body slumped in Lucifer's arms while Linde leans against his side, her eyes still sharp as they comb the forest around them for any sign of movement.

"He is not going to enjoy the next few years," she murmurs quietly, glancing at the slumbering form with a fond smile.

Lucifer shakes his head and sighs. Linde has only two or three years left before her first bleeding and a growth spurt. But Michael's body is only six, and he will be frustrated by his limitations in helping them survive.

"We will manage," he says, then straightens, smiling as she automatically pulls away and tightens her grip on the flint blade she has not relinquished since she shoved it into a man's throat. "Let's find shelter; we need rest too."

They spend the night in the hollowed out trunk of a fallen tree, a family of rabbits for company. Rabbits who make an excellent morning meal; Michael skinning and cooking them with small, deft fingers while Linde fetches water and Lucifer sorts through their supplies.

After eating, they carefully cover all signs of their presence and continue moving. They keep moving for weeks, until the itch on the back of their necks has faded into a faint twitch instead of a sharp spear point.

They create a home when they find a place that feels safe enough, digging into the earth and building above it with wood from fallen trees. Michael has the sharpest eyes for spotting edible plants and Lucifer teaches Linde to hunt. Linde had stolen two ceramic pots from their captors which serve for water storage and they are all capable of sewing clothes from animal hides when the cloth they ran in begins to wear thin.

In the evenings, Michael carves wooden figures into strange shapes while Lucifer and Linde expand and reinforce their home, and at night they take turns telling tales or singing songs until they fall asleep.

By mutual agreement, Linde and Lucifer do not change their relationship until Michael is old enough to join them and the first night the three of them share a bed without clothes is full of gasps and sighs and surprised exclamations of pleasure as they learn how to fit the three of them together in ways they've only dreamt of, and ways they haven't.

Lucifer watches his lovers sleep, Linde curled between them while Michael's arms are snug around Linde's small frame and Lucifer's chest, and allows the flicker of joy in his chest to grow into a full flame. The Father intended only pain with his actions, but he underestimated human resiliency. There has been pain, and there will be more, more than he wants the two souls beside him to experience, but there will also be pleasure and happiness and love.

He watches their chests rise and fall and remembers blood on his hands and the light in their eyes when he found them in the tent with the other captive children. The Father had named him the Bringer of Death and he knows there will be more death in his future. But The Father is not the only power in the universe, and he is not the only being who can create life. One day the sparks lurking in Lucifer's soul will be strong enough to burn anew and death will no longer follow in his footsteps.

One day they will have a life together that does not have to end.

And no one will be able to stop them then.

x

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Notes:

1) The chapter title comes from the lyrics "And I have fallen from the sky; In a million multi-coloured lies" from the song Plastic Rainbow by Marina and the Diamonds. Also, I will totally be posting a fanmix at some point for this story because my playlist for it keeps growing. (There is a ridiculous amount of Imagine Dragons on that playlist, fair warning. I'm beginning to thing they're all Marvel fans with how well their music suits the characters.)

2) This is going to be set primarily in the Marvel Cinematic Universe with possibly some elements from general Marvel canon as well. I want to include certain things from the comics, but definitely can't use the whole universe as A. they've already included Lucifer and the angels and my version is better (*cough* author bias *cough*) and B. Historically speaking it is iffy as hell and I am attempting historical believability here, ignoring the whole you know, angels and superheroes thing ;).

3) The following notes are for any readers who enjoy history nerding as much as I do, since I couldn't resist sharing some of my research notes for this chapter :D.

A. Thanks to the genealogies listed in the Bible, Biblical historians have pinpointed the Garden of Eden myth to have taken place around approximately 5400 BCE, so that is when this story begins. That is, of course, well after modern humans began moving about the world and forming settlements and such, so that is taken into account in the mythology/history I'm creating here.  
B. The first village that Eve lives in, and the one that she and Michael spend their first life together in, is the settlement of Eridu, one of the oldest cities in Mesopotamia, and the cultures described are based on what archaeologists have found in regards to the area/time period. The names are not accurate however, as again this is set approximately 2000 years before written language was invented and therefore our records are sketchy at best. So Puabi and Naram are names from that geographic area, but from a couple thousand years later.  
C. Eve's third life is set in the Zhaobaogou culture of northeast China. Again, records are sketchy, so please take my representation of their culture with a grain of salt.  
D. Michael's first life after his life with Eve takes place in the Merimde culture in Lower Egypt.  
E. Michael and Lucifer's first life together takes place in Alaska/Northern Candada with the pre-Inuit Paleo-Arctic tribes. I imply that they build an igloo, and I couldn't actually find how old those particular structures are. Also, the details of things like neolithic procedures for the curing of hide and how they made their clothes are kind of a bitch to find. I can't wait to be at my new University with their giant library *happy sigh*.  
F. Lucifer's next life is on the island of Malta, with the unnamed culture that first settled there. They did worship fertility figures, but (as far as I know) the polgyny is entirely created by me although many cultures of that era did practice it. (Also, they totally hunted pygmy hippos and elephants and I am so sad those are now extinct cause dude, pygmy elephants, who would not want to be best friends with one of those?)  
G. Lucifer and Eve's first life together is spent in the Ertebølle culture in southern Scandinavia, one of the few we have more details on, so the mentions of shell/tooth belts and boats, etc., are actually accurate, although again the name is not as old as the culture.  
H. And then finally the Lucifer/Eve/Michael life is set in Middle to Eastern Europe, no particular culture, and Eve's name is also inaccurate as to time, but accurate as to location (Ancient Germanic.)

4. We only got through like, approximately 400 years of human history in this chapter, and there are still 7000 years to go, so the story will not be continuing at the same pace. I haven't quite figured out how I'm going to work the next few chapters, because I do want to show more of their pre-Marvel lives and I have certain specific plans for time periods/persons in history, but need to speed things up, so we'll see how that goes. Hopefully it won't take me too long and I'll have the next chapter up soonish.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **1) So, um, lots of warnings this chapter. Please heed the previous notes detailing **trigger** warnings. If you've made it this far, I'm assuming you're okay with my deconstruction of Abraham Religions, but this chapter gets up close and personal with a negative portrayal of God and the first book of the Hebrew Bible (and thus the Christian Bible) so consider yourself warned.

Also, this chapter deals with slavery, a pretty intense death scene, accurate to time period incest, and murder (again, nothing super graphic.) I don't think I'm missing anything warning wise, but if I am, please let me know.

2) This chapter took a lot of work, more even than the last one. Between all the research needed, and that annoying real life thing, it took me a good three more days to finish then I was planning. I'm hoping to get the next chapter out by August 7th, which will either be the last chapter before we hit the events of Captain America, or the next to last chapter before that point, depending on how things go. Assuming I accomplish that goal, the next chapter sadly will take longer as I'm moving to a new state and school on the 7th and will be starting training for my new job and getting ready for the fall semester.

That said, this story is literally the number one thing in my thoughts day and night so have no fear of it being abandoned or left without update for months on end.

* * *

~x~

* * *

**you sang a song that made the children cry**

Humans, like most young races, take great joy in killing one another. Although, Lucifer thinks with bitter reminiscence, it is not only the young who stoop to violence. His lives on Earth have been filled with such violence, violence he has not always been able to avoid. There is blood on his hands, blood that stains in ways it never did when he was not mortal and neither were his victims.

Those stains are darker and harder to see. The death of an immortal is not a small crime.

But cutting short the life of something as vibrant and brief as a human being is a special kind of wrong, as is the knowledge that as Lucifer he could have breathed the spark of life back into each and every body that has fallen before him.

As a human he can only helplessly watch their souls slip away, to whatever fate awaits them.

This life, two thousand years after being sentenced to this fragile shell (and over a century since he has seen Michael or Eve), is one of the most pleasant he has spent since becoming mortal, despite the lack of either of the beings he loves. His people do not kill each other; violence has no place in their culture, despite there being more of them in one area than he has seen during his time on Earth.

They import fish and other sea creatures from the coast and cultivate plants: squash, beans, and other edibles, along with cotton for fabric and other goods. Music fills their days and he grows quite fond of his bone flute and the melodies he can create, memories of sounds no mortal has heard.

The city is built around a large pyramid, a towering and impressive structure of giant steps, with other smaller pyramids and temples scattered throughout it. Several deities are worshipped and the belief in powers and beings beyond their understanding is absolute. Lucifer does not know if any of those deities have other names, names spoken in other realms, but he has not felt the whisper of true Power against his skin.

He has Seen things in this life that suggest a few of the priests wield some sort of power, but he does not care to discover the source of it.

He is enjoying the peace.

He does not marry. He spends his days weaving cotton into fishing nets and his nights playing music. He knows he is seen as odd, but it does not bother him. He i_s_ odd, after all, and it is rare indeed to live in a society where that fact is not a danger to his life or the lives of others.

He is quite old when he feels death coming and despite the unending hope that his next life will bring him back to Michael or Eve, he is sad to lose this simple and pleasant life.

He doubts there will be many more to come.

As if to prove him right, his next life begins in the middle of a war. His mother gives birth to him as his father falls under the swords of the Akkadian invaders. By the time he can walk, their city is a part of the growing Akkadian empire and any new attempts at resistance are swiftly and viciously crushed.

He is lucky and is trained by one of the temple scribes even though his mother cannot afford to send him to a school. He easily learns the symbols for Sumerian and Akkadian and how to carve the symbols into clay tablets for record keeping and other purposes, and is relieved that he will not be expected to join the Akkadian army in their conquests. Scribes are too valuable to be sent into combat.

He is hired by one of the wealthier landowners and on his first day on the man's property, he sees Michael. He is a slave and he is being caned in front of the other slaves and servants. Lucifer's vision goes red with blinding rage and it takes every ounce of control he has to stop himself from getting both of them killed.

Michael's eyes find his, a rich blue that stands out in the sea of darker colors, and seem to glow with pleasure despite the abuse his body is being subjected to. Lucifer swallows the need to kill and holds his gaze until the caning stops, blood running freely down the pale skin of his back.

Michael does not so much as wince and Lucifer has to hold back a dangerous smile as Michael turns to face the man who owns him without a single hint of pain, or any other expression, on his face.

The landowner frowns. "You will not stop me from enjoying my property again."

Michael doesn't blink and Lucifer stiffens at the implication, his eyes catching on a female slave who is huddling with the others, a large, hand-shaped bruise darkening the skin of her upper arm.

The silence stretches and the landowner sneers, discomfort visible in his eyes, as he waves a hand at them. "Get back to work."

It takes another feat of self-control to not follow as Michael leaves with the other slaves, heading toward the fields. He breathes deeply, reminds himself that he does not like violence, and greets his new Master, listening to his expected duties and focusing on not tearing the man's throat out with his bare hands.

It takes more patience to make it through this one day than it did to make it through the past hundred years and his skin is crawling with the need to touch Michael by the time darkness has fallen and the others in the house have gone to sleep.

He slips out of the room he shares with another servant and makes his way across the fields toward the huts where the slaves sleep. Michael is waiting for him, standing amidst the stalks of wheat, his head tipped back as he watches the sky.

Lucifer steps into his arms, tucking his head under Michael's chin and carefully placing his hands on Michael's lower back, beneath the lacerations that must ache fiercely. They are silent, communicating with touch not words, and for a moment the peace is perfect.

But Lucifer cannot forget the sharp, wet sounds of the cane striking Michael's back and he places his lips against the pulse in Michael's throat before pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. "Why didn't you kill him?"

Michael's smile is tired and his eyes are older than Lucifer has ever seen them. "Because if he was killed by a slave, the rest of the slaves and probably the servants would have been killed in punishment. Not all of them are capable of running."

He doesn't need to add that helping the girl escape would have resulted in a similarly broad punishment and Lucifer closes his eyes, leaning forward until his forehead is resting against Michael's mouth. "So you took the punishment on yourself."

He can feel Michael's smile grow against his skin before Michael kisses his forehead and pulls him closer. "You would have done the same," he murmurs into Lucifer's ear and echoes of memory send a shudder through him as Lucifer's hands clench on Michael's hips.

"I love you," he whispers, in a language no human has ever used, and Michael pulls his head up for a rough kiss that burns with every year between them.

When Lucifer returns to his room, his body is streaked with dirt beneath his tunic and his hands are sore from how tightly he dug them into the Earth to avoid Michael's wounds.

They have to be careful, more than they have ever been, and it is frustrating to have Michael so close and not be able to touch him, speak with him, whenever he wishes. His frustration is nothing to his fury as Michael continues to be punished for protecting the other slaves when he can, until there are more scars than unblemished skin on his back, which never bows, no matter how much pain he's in.

The feeling of helplessness threatens to choke him and he has never hated The Father more.

The progress of human civilization across the ages has fascinated him but here and now he wants to go back to a life spent in snow and solitude, away from the mortals whose form they share.

At times their punishment has seemed to contain more freedom than their lives as The Father's weapons ever did, but lives like this make it clear that The Father's decision not to kill them was born out of the desire to cause pain, not out of mercy. Lucifer traces every scar on Michael's body with his fingers and mouth, carving them into his memory. He intends to repay every second of pain tenfold.

One day a slave comes running up to him while he is marking down the bushels of grain being shipped to Akkad, her eyes large with panic and her breath coming in short gasps. "Please, he said to get you; please come," she pants out, barely waiting for his nod before turning to run back the way she came, Lucifer close on her heels.

She leads him to the huts where the slaves sleep, empty at this time of day, and waves him toward a door before darting toward the fields. He steps inside the darkened doorway, hands tensed in preparation for reaching for the bronze blade in his belt. When his eyes adjust to the dim light, his hands drop helplessly to his sides instead.

Michael is standing near the wall, staring at the body of one of the men who oversees the slaves. There is blood on his hands and his face is calm.

When his eyes lift to meet Lucifer's, the depth of sorrow there staggers him and he steps forward, raising his hands to Michael's face. "You have to leave." Michael shakes his head and Lucifer suddenly understands the sorrow with a wrench of fear and anger. "No, you have to run. You cannot stay and let them do this."

Michael reaches up and wraps his fingers around Lucifer's wrists in a gentle hold. "If I do not, they will kill her instead. I will not allow that."

Tears and bile burn in Lucifer's throat and he shakes his head in futile denial. "There has to be a way."

Michael's grip tightens and his eyes are suddenly fierce. "You can leave." Lucifer jerks in surprise and Michael's voice lowers. "I do not want you to watch this."

His rage flares anew and Lucifer holds Michael's gaze as he shakes his head again. "If you are going to bear this, then I can bear to witness." The thought of actually doing so drains his anger away and guilt rises up in its place. "It is my fault you -"

Michael cuts him off with a kiss, swift and forceful. "I chose this." The flames that The Father could not eradicate entirely are burning brighter than they have in two thousand years as he cradles Lucifer's face in his hands and the sparks inside Lucifer leap in response. "You are worth following."

Lucifer lunges forward, claiming his lips in a desperate need to feel Michael before he is torn away once again. Michael's mouth opens beneath his eagerly, hot and wet and just as desperate and Lucifer does not pull away until neither of them can breathe.

"You need to go," Michael says, his eyes still fierce but his hands soft against Lucifer's skin. "You need to wash off the blood and find a reason for her to have found you."

Lucifer does not want to go, does not want to leave him, but he knows getting himself executed along with Michael will hurt his lover more than his own death, so he obeys.

He washes the blood off his face and wrists with the dipper of water outside the hut and then resolutely walks into the fields, not looking back. Hours later, he and all the other members of the household are summoned to the front courtyard where Michael stands, bound hand and foot and covered in bruises.

There are two Akkadian soldiers, one standing on either side of him, and they force Michael to his knees as the landowner steps forward, his eyes sweeping over every slave and servant. "This slave has murdered a free man. By law, the punishment for this crime is death."

The courtyard is completely silent, no one daring to whisper or move. Lucifer's hands are so tightly clenched into fists that he can't feel them anymore and he feels dizzy as the landowner steps back and waves an imperious hand at the soldiers. One of them shoves Michael's head down, baring his neck, and the other draws his sword.

Lucifer bites down on a scream and does not close his eyes as the sword arcs through the air. They close on their own when the thud of Michael's head hitting the dirt reaches his ears and the only reason he does not vomit is because he cannot breathe.

When he opens his eyes, everyone is being dismissed back to work and he numbly returns to his room, unable to look at the empty shell lying on the ground. Michael's soul is gone and he will feel it again. For him, and for Eve, whose lives without them he does not have the strength to think of, he will not give into his grief or his rage.

Not until he has the power to wield them to the ruin of the one who cursed them.

He leaves that night, unable to remain without killing men whose largest crime is ignorance. He leaves and he wanders and he waits for this life to end.

It does, eventually, in an equally senseless act of violence, and his next few lives pass in a distant haze as he cultivates the bitter store of rage building within him and aches with the knowledge that it will be millenia before he can use the sparks brought to life by Michael's touch.

Patience has never seemed less like a virtue.

It is a long and lonely two centuries before he finds one of his lovers again. He is born to high station, a rare event even with over two thousand years of history behind him. His father is Pharoah and Lucifer, now Merenre, is heir to the throne.

Two years later Eve is born as Nitocris, his sister and future wife.

~x~

Nitocris watches Lucifer pretend to bask under the attention of their father's courtiers and hides a quiet smile. He is different in this life. His anger is closer to the surface and when they are alone his smiles are more rare. She has not asked what pain he has experienced in the centuries since they last saw each other, nor has she shared her own.

Some pains are not lessened when they are born by more than one soul.

Instead they speak of the future, of the things they have Seen, and of the power they have witnessed that does not come from The Father or any of his vessels. She can feel in him the need for freedom, for escape from this parody of living, and has begun to fear what he may risk to bring about that goal.

There are many paths ahead of them, some with more permanent ends, and some with new beginnings, and she needs him to hold on, to wait for the lives that hold the most possibilities.

He catches her gaze and she smiles at him, a real smile. This life is a gift. They are family, they are betrothed, and she is not only allowed but encouraged to spend time with him, learning as he learns the roles they are expected to play when their father's reign comes to an end.

She intends to use that gift to restore some measure of peace to his heart.

His smile turns real for one shining second before it fades back into the empty curve of lips he shows everyone else and she directs her attention back to the grapes she's been picking at in lieu of conversing with anyone. It will not be easy, but patience has always been one of her greatest virtues.

She turns her gaze on the movements of the court, watching the conversations meant to be overheard, and the whispers in corners that seek to avoid attention.

Their Kingdom is fading. She is not supposed to know this, but she learned her lessons in lives far more difficult than this one and she knows the signs of approaching death. It began before their birth, before their father's reign, but the absolute power of the Pharoah seeps away more with every passing year.

Lucifer knows too, but he cares for the minutia of this temporary life even less than she does, so if there is anything that should be done it will fall to her to take action. For now, however, she does not care. The fate of this country, or the dynasty whose name they bear, holds no more interest for her than it does her lover. Let the advisors and priests have the power they can wrest away from the throne, it does not concern her. The future she looks to is long after this Kingdom will fall, and many Kingdoms after it.

When she has seen her fill of intrigue and politicking and flirtations, she catches Lucifer's gaze again with a coy smile and mischievous eyes and slips away to his rooms, knowing he will follow soon. The guards let her pass with faint smiles and she lets her dress fall to the floor as they close the door behind her. She divests herself of her jewelry as she walks across the room and sprawls lazily across the bed, her eyes drawn to the familiar stories that decorate the ceiling.

She does not look down when the doors open again, but smiles as she hears his linen robe join hers. Lucifer's hands slide up her legs as he crawls onto the bed, not stopping until he is hovering above her, his dark, kohl lined eyes blocking her view of the ceiling.

"Bored, are we?" he asks, lips quirking into another genuine smile and she pulls him down so she can taste it.

"I wanted you," she breaths into his mouth and then laughs as his body instantly drops to press hers against the bed. One of his hands trails down her side and her laughter turns into a breathy sigh as he deepens the kiss.

When he pulls away, he is still smiling, a soft, happy thing, and the shadows in his eyes have retreated. "Then I'm all yours," he says, his voice warm and teasing.

She wraps her legs around him and rolls her hips, savoring the husky groan that slips out of him as his fingers tighten against her skin. "I like the sound of that," she murmurs, and he chuckles as he kisses her again.

They spend the rest of the day in bed and she takes pleasure in every smile, laugh, and breathless moan she coaxes out of him.

Their life is an easy one. Their father is old already, but still healthy, and shows no signs of turning over the reins of power anytime soon. A state of affairs that Lucifer and Nitocris are more than happy with.

They are each other's center. They fulfill their duties, let themselves be seen by the people, speak with the priests and officials whenever they wish, and oversee their father's interests when he does not wish to travel, but the majority of their time is spent together, in every private corner and moment they can steal.

Most royals are not so in love, particularly in their culture where the Pharaoh's first wife is always a sibling or cousin, and subsequent wives are also family or chosen based on alliances or need for heirs. On the rare occasion a Pharoah feels great passion for his wife, she is usually not the one he has been raised from birth with.

They show only appropriate levels of affection in public, but in private they are never not touching, and as time passes, the sharp edges beneath Lucifer's skin begin to dull and his smiles come more freely.

"They killed him," he tells her one night, when their skin is still flushed from exertion and pleasure. "He was a slave and they killed him and I could not stop them."

Nitocris tightens her arms around him and kisses his closed eyes, glad in an achingly painful way that he was not there to witness her lives as a slave. "One day we will be able to protect each other. We have both Seen it."

He laughs into her neck, rough and angry. "I am tired of waiting for one day."

"The longer we wait, the less He will be expecting us to act," she says, soft and slow, and he stiffens before raising his head to meet her gaze.

"Vindictive," he murmurs, a delighted note in his tone, and she smiles with a flash of sharp white teeth.

"Always."

She does not live for vengeance - she lives for herself and for her lovers because The Father does not deserve to consume her so utterly. But that does not mean she is not as eager as Lucifer for the day their punishment comes to an end and the day they will be the ones holding the power.

The thought of that day keeps her warm at night in the lives when she is alone.

Eventually their father dies and Lucifer assumes the throne. They are not as free to steal moments together and the gaze she fixes on the jostlings of the court is less charitable.

The first year of their reign passes and the fact that she has not born a child is no longer being ignored. She is visiting with the other women of their family, determining which she is most willing to share Lucifer with in order to ensure succession, when half of the Royal Guards escort Lucifer's vizier into the room. His face is pale but his eyes are gleaming and she does not believe the shock and grief in his voice when he tells her that her husband is dead.

She follows them to the throne room where Lucifer is lying on the floor, stiff and cold while the royal physicians hover helplessly under the watchful eyes of the guard. Her voice is ice as she demands to know what happened and they explain that an asp found its way into the room and bit Lucifer's ankle before anyone saw it.

She does not dispute their version of events, but she knows with cold certainty that she should have paid more attention to the maneuverings of the men now telling her that she can take the throne until a suitable heir is chosen from amongst the children of her half-siblings.

She should not have let her giddy joy at having Lucifer so close blind her to the mortal dangers they face.

The funerary rites are initiated and she lets them arrange for her ascent to the throne while she watches with a gaze honed by guilt and fury for every whisper and glance that betrays those who had a hand in Lucifer's death.

She cultivates those who were not included in the plot and makes her plans with the subtlety and surety born of over two millennia of patience. Two months after she is crowned, two months after Lucifer is placed in his tomb, she throws a feast. The only guests are the ones who arranged for Lucifer's death and she watches the growing fear on their faces with a bland smile.

The first course is served and they dare not refuse to eat, not under the watchful eyes of the Royal Guard, whose ranks have been pruned and increased with care. Lucifer's vizier is the first to notice that she has not touched her food and she allows him to see the vicious glee in her eyes as the guests begin to writhe in pain.

She neither moves nor speaks, but continues to smile until every single one of them has coughed their last blood filled breath of air. Then she daintily steps down from the dais and skirts her way around their contorted bodies. Half of the guard follows her when she leaves and the other half remains to take care of the mess.

The next day she announces that a sudden plague came in the night, a disease that only affected traitors and murderers. The remaining officials are gratifyingly obsequious and she knows no one will dare to plot against her. And if they do, well, she's learned her lesson. She will pay attention to _all_ the things she sees and Sees.

Over the next year she takes steps to recentralize power and makes it clear who holds the power in the Egyptian court. She chooses a successor, the first born son of one of her half-sister's, and keeps him by her side at all times. She knows their dynasty will still come to an end, but she has postponed the inevitable and power will not fall into the hands of those who sought their downfall.

One of her final acts is further construction on Lucifer's tomb. When she dies, her orders will ensure that tradition will be broken and she will be entombed with him: two Pharaohs, side by side for eternity.

She does not reign as long as her father, the longest lived ruler in Egypt's known history, but she dies of natural causes and and with the knowledge that patience will bring her to those she loves again.

Patience that is tested as she lives and dies and lives and dies. They always find each other, with a frequency that is not probable given the number of human beings on the planet (a number she does not know, nor does she think she can count that high.) But that knowledge does not make waiting any easier.

Several lives after her reign as Pharoah, she is born to a wealthy merchant family on the island of Crete. Their culture has the rare distinction of treating men and women equally, and Rusa delights in the freedom as she plays with her brothers and accompanies her parents to the docks, watching the boats filled with foreigners and their goods with amused fascination. She has lived in skins that look like many of them and an artless whisper in her mother's ear ensures that the Egyptians do not cheat them.

When she has her first bleeding she elects to join the temple and become a priestess to the Mother, having no desire to marry if she does not have to.

The life of a priestess is a pleasant one. They maintain the temple and present the daily offerings to the Goddess. They perform important rites and blessings, and partake in the celebrations thrown by the King.

She enjoys the company of most of her fellow priestesses and one in particular, Kitane, becomes the closest friend she's had in any life. (Lucifer and Michael do not count; they are not friends, they are a part of her.)

One night Kitane kisses her, her small deft hands cupping Rusa's breasts, and Rusa kisses back, swallowing the sound of Kitane's startled laugh as Rusa topples her onto her bed.

Kitane is not the first woman she has lain with, but she is the first that Rusa hasn't had to fear punishment for being caught with and Kitane delights in her enthusiasm. They whisper secrets during temple rites and make a mess of the bathing room, holding in their giggles as one of the senior priestesses lectures them about proper, reverent behavior.

"I hope I see you again," Rusa whispers into Kitane's hair one night and Kitane looks confused until Rusa distracts her with wandering fingers.

They are preparing for a celebration when the ground begins to shake. A violent wave ripples across the floor and Rusa hears Kitane cry out as chunks of stone begin to fall from the ceiling. She is trying and failing to crawl toward the other girl when something strikes her head and the black emptiness of death pulls her away.

When she wakes she is a Shudra, a member of the servant caste. She is raised, like her parents, to enter the service of a member of the Kshatriya caste, one of the administrators of Kausambi.

There is less freedom and more strictures on behavior that she must follow in comparison to her last life, but is far from the most difficult life she has led and she learns her duties with quiet dedication. Michael comes to the servant's entrance one day, to deliver some jewelry, and his eyes light when he sees her. She sends the jewelry off with the other serving girl and slips into his arms with a grateful sigh.

"I missed you," he murmurs, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear, and she cannot stop herself from kissing him, unafraid of being caught.

He is smiling when he pulls away and she smiles back, loneliness banished to another life. "I am Nitya. Are you married?"

He laughs and shakes his head. "A fitting name," he says and leans down for another kiss. "I will tell my father of the bewitching beauty who caught my eye and he will be relieved. I think he feared that I was tritiya-prakrti and would not give him grandchildren to learn his trade."

This time it is she who laughs, her eyes dancing as she grins at him. "If only he knew."

He grins back and she wonders how long he's been alone, if he's seen Lucifer since the life in which he was executed for protecting another slave. She does not ask, just pulls him in for a kiss and then shoos him away before either of them are caught behaving inappropriately.

Over the next few months, he finds many excuses to visit. When enough time has passed, he brings his father to speak to her father and the proper arrangements are made. The day she goes home with him neither of them can stop smiling and she feels younger than even her apparent age.

Lucifer is not the only one tired of waiting for 'one day', no matter how patient she is capable of being, and every life she does not have to spend alone is a precious gift.

~x~

Feeling Lucifer's eyes on him as he was shoved to his knees had been far more painful than the beating which preceded his execution. As are the centuries without his presence that follow. They find each other once more, briefly, but their lives are cut short by plague and then Michael is alone again. After nearly three millenia in mortal form, he still has yet to find an emotion that cuts deeper than loneliness. Even his rage and grief are blunted by the empty spaces in his soul, and it is difficult to form bonds with individual humans he knows will die all too soon.

He does not give into despair, Lucifer isn't the only stubborn one, but there are years in which he cannot sleep for fear of the things he will see when he closes his eyes. For all his determination to do the right thing, in this world where what is right shifts with every passing day, he does not know what he would have done if it had been Lucifer, or Eve, awaiting death in punishment for a crime that is no crime.

He hopes he never finds out and wishes bitterly that he had someone to pray to or bargain with as the humans do, even if he knows better than they the cost of such things when they are truly answered.

Finally, he is delivering one of his father's necklaces to one of the wealthier homes in Kausambi and finds Eve, now Nitya, and feels the cold inside him thaw at the sight of her smile and the touch of her warm skin. He remembers her first words to him and hopes that they are still true because he is selfishly glad that she is there with them, that Lucifer is not the only one who keeps the loneliness at bay.

Circumstances do not conspire against them and they are of the same caste and thus able to marry. That night she pushes him down onto their marriage bed and kisses him languidly, bracing herself on his shoulders as his hands encircle her waist. "I missed you too," she tells him with a soft smile when she lifts her head.

He cannot find the words to reply and she kisses him again, allowing him to answer with the movement of their bodies instead. Her bravery still awes him, but by now he knows her well enough to appreciate her intelligence, ruthlessness, and the fierceness with which she loves.

Loving her was unexpected, one of the silver linings of The Father's punishment, and she is one of the many reasons he will never regret choosing Lucifer over The Father.

Their life together is full of that love, for each other, and for their son, a bright eyed boy whose endless curiosity drives them both to distraction.

"I can never decide if it is easier or harder," he says one night, as they stand over the mat their son just fell asleep on.

She nods, her eyes happy and sad as she looks up at him. "Harder. But better. When I can keep them safe. When I can't," her hands clench and he pulls her into his arms, heart breaking at the images invoked by her words.

He still doesn't know what he's capable of if it means protecting the ones he loves, but he knows he doesn't care if it means keeping that pain out of their voices.

Lucifer's anger has always been more volatile, quick and loud, but Michael's burns deep, a slow fire that can't be seen until it is too late to be stopped. This anger has had a long time to burn, and it will be longer still before it is allowed to rage free.

When it does, the destruction will be absolute.

When he meets Nitya's eyes again, hers are glinting with a hate so sharp it could cut through stone and he smiles because he doesn't need visions to see the havoc they will wreak together.

"Patience," she counsels, her eyes still hard but her smile soft. "I worry enough about Lucifer's anger; I do not wish to add to my worries about you."

Michael's lips quirk into a knowing smile and he nods. "I promise."

She rewards him with a kiss and he lets her lead him out of the room with one last glance at their son and a silent wish that Lucifer is safe in whatever life he is living. The lives in which he has both of them by his side are the only ones in which he can truly rest.

Their long and happy marriage ends with a racking cough that claims his life within days of its onset. Their son is old enough to have learned his trade and he knows Nitya will be cared for, so it is only the fear of what is to come in their next lives that makes him regret his death.

The next thousand years pass much the same as the last three. There are lives alone, lives with each of his lovers, and one precious life with both of them. He witnesses atrocities and stunningly beautiful examples of what humans are capable of and spends every moment remembering his promise to Eve and refusing to let his imagination paint vivid pictures of what atrocities she and Lucifer might be suffering when they are not where he can see them.

And then the carefully banked rage that has been simmering inside of him since The Father cast them out finds new fuel and it is only the lack of his angelic powers that keeps him from returning to The Father's realm and razing it to the ground.

He is born in the town of Jerusalem in the province of Judah while it is under the rule of the Persian Empire. Lucifer is born a year after he is, and at first this life seems it will be one of their happiest. Eve lives in a nearby village, born within months of Lucifer, and they find every excuse possible to slip away from the watchful gazes of their parents and out of the town's walls to visit her.

Michael's father is a baker and Lucifer's father is a woodworker. Eve, now Ilana, comes from a family of shepherds whose sheep provide much of the wool for Jerusalem.

They are aware of the religion most of Jerusalem practices, but they have all lived through many religions and do not usually give them any thought beyond maintaining necessary appearances, and as children their participation is limited. When Michael is nine, there is an influx of new people into Jerusalem, descendants of those exiled during the Babylonian occupation, and with them comes a new High Priest and a new governor and suddenly they can no longer ignore the faith of their people.

Things change in the city. There is tension between those who never left and those who were born in captivity. Laws are altered and enforced. Michael and Lucifer can no longer slip away to visit Ilana - contact with those who are not Judahites is limited and intermarriage is forbidden.

Non-participation is no longer an option and Michael and Lucifer accompany their families to the temple every Shabbat for readings of the Torah, the sacred scriptures of the Judahites. There are several books in the Torah and the readings follow a set schedule over the course of the year so it is three months before they hear the words that make everything horrifically clear.

Michael's hands are curled into fists he is hard pressed to hide from his parents as the story of Adam and Eve unfolds. It is all he can do to hold back a harsh laugh as he hears Lucifer's punishment - 'God cursed the serpent to crawl on its belly, to eat dirt, and to live in enmity with the woman and her offspring.' - and his eyes find his lover, whose face is pale with thinly disguised fury.

He barely hears the rest of the reading, his every nerve on fire from the effort of holding still. He cannot slip away from his family until the next day and Lucifer meets him by the gates, both of them slipping into the fields maintained by the farmers of Jerusalem and hiding themselves amongst the stalks of barley.

Lucifer is silent, unusually so, and it is Michael who cannot contain himself. "These Judahites, they used to be the _Israelites_, Soldiers of God," he chokes, his fists clenching against the feel of a phantom sword in his hand, blazing with unnatural fire. "Someone, somewhere, is laughing at us."

"We'll make Him eat that laugh," Lucifer says viciously, staring up at him with eyes gone nearly black with rage, and Michael shivers with a combination of excitement and fear.

"He did this. He could not stop himself from meddling and He-" he stops, too angry to form words. Hearing the calm recitation of such a twisted version of their lives, of Eve's brave choice and The Father's benevolence in creating the humans and despairing of their wickedness - it makes him sick, bile burning like acid in his throat as pain lances through his temples at the effort it is taking not to scream his rage to the uncaring heavens.

"He is not the only one," Lucifer says quietly, after the silence has stretched between them with all the things they cannot say. Michael slumps, propping his head on on his knees, and waits for Lucifer to explain. "Some of the other beliefs we've seen, the other gods; I think some are like The Father. I think this is the new form of war between The Others."

Michael's fingers dig into the dirt below them to steady himself. "What does that mean for us?"

Lucifer shrugs. "For now? Nothing. But later," he meets Michael's gaze with a slow smile that gives Michael the sudden urge to laugh. The Father should never have risked leaving them alive. "Later it means we may have allies in our vengeance."

Michael nods, anger coalescing into something hard and bitter and controllable as he pushes himself to his feet and holds a hand out to Lucifer. "We need to find Ilana, and we need to plan. We are not staying here."

Lucifer takes his hand and lets Michael pull him up. "It will be dangerous. We are still too young."

Michael lets that laugh out, a cold chuckle that sounds utterly wrong coming from his child's mouth, and bares his teeth in a rictus of a grin. "We are more dangerous than anyone we will meet."

Lucifer's eyes widen for a moment, but then he grins back, his hand squeezing Michael's tightly. "That we are."

When they find Ilana and tell her of what they learned, she does not look surprised. When they question her lack of anger, she shrugs and gives them a weary smile. "I Saw this. When I bit into the fruit, I Saw what He would do. I didn't know it would take this long, and I don't know what it will mean, but I knew that we would become the evildoers."

Lucifer looks shocked, clearly wondering why she never said anything, and she kisses his cheek as she reaches out to take both of their hands. "It does not matter. He failed. Because of us, He failed. And anything He does now will only add to his reckoning."

She is right, and Michael pulls both of them into his arms, fiercely grateful once again that The Father was foolish enough to leave them alive, and with ties that would always bring their souls together. Despite the anger he can feel coiling tightly beneath Lucifer's skin, his grin matches Ilana's as they look up at him and Michael laughs again, a joyous sound.

They are far more dangerous than they appear and with the two of them by his side there is nothing they cannot accomplish.

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Notes:

1) The chapter title comes from the song Cover Up by Imagine Dragons.

2) One of my research notes I wanted all readers be aware of: the Michael/Eve life is set in India during the late Vedic age and the reference to tritiya-prakrti is not a reference to homosexuality, although it could encompass homosexual behavior. It means 'third nature' rather than 'male nature' or 'female nature' and could refer to people with male bodies, female bodies, or intersexuals. There is a lot more to it, so I encourage you to research it for yourself (ancient cultures could be, in a lot of ways, more progressive about gender than we are in the modern world and it's a pretty fascinating research topic.)

3) Okay, and now onto the other history notes you only need to read if you're curious about the ridiculous amounts of research I'm putting into this story :D

A. Lucifer's first life is set in the Norte Chico civilization in ancient Peru. It was the oldest civilization in the Americas and one of six in the world that developed independently. It's also highly unique in that no traces of warfare have been discovered and it appeared to be a very peaceful society. I couldn't resist using it since most references to ancient American civilizations focus on human sacrifices and 'savagery', which was actually practiced basically everywhere in the world at one point or another.  
B. As referenced in story, his and Michael's life together takes place during the Akkadian Empire, in an unspecified city in Mesopotamia. The culture, including the slavery details, are as accurate as I could make them given that my primary research tool is the internet.  
C. Lucifer and Eve's life takes place in Egypt, obviously, and Nitocris is a possible actual historical figure who ruled during the last years of the Old Kingdom, who would have been the first female Pharoah, but who has been deemed more likely to be mythological/or the result of mistranslation in recent years. In the original myth, she committed suicide after drowning most of the conspirators against her brother in a trap. I think my version's better :D  
D. Eve's next life is in Minoa, which really did have a pretty decent civilization if you were a woman, although I couldn't actually find any reference to whether homosexuality would be tolerated as their language is one we haven't had much success with translating.  
E. Michael and Eve's life together is set in India during the late Vedic period. Nitya means always or eternal in Sanskrit.  
F. And then finally we come to the life in Jerusalem, set during the reign of either Darius or Atraxerxes I (archaeological records vs. biblical records make that time period a bit confusing and there's a lot of debate over specific timeframes and details). That one was the hardest, for obvious reasons, and I did my best to be as accurate as possible to the culture. That one section took ten times as much research as the rest of the chapter. But, if anyone familiar with Judaic history catches an error, please let me know.


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